


Journey to Kaer Morhen

by embeer2004



Series: A vampire, his blood-brother and his witcher [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC) Spoilers, Caring, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Recovery, The Witcher 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 00:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Regis wrote Geralt with an unusual request: Dettlaff and he wanted to pay their respects to the fallen Vesemir, but had no idea how to actually travel to Kaer Morhen. Geralt replied with a generous offer in return: if Dettlaff didn’t mind he would take both vampires there himself. They accepted his offer. Their journey was peaceful, except for near the end, when a horde of forktails attacked their camp and one of them managed to injure Geralt. His condition deteriorated rapidly and Regis feared his friend was going to die…





	Journey to Kaer Morhen

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same head canon as my other fics and makes small references to some of them, but you don’t really need to read them to understand what’s happening here (Regeneration and Decline though would provide more insight into the 'why' here). 
> 
> What may be handy to know: Regis followed Dettlaff after BAW and they went back home to Nazair, where they live with their pack. Regis is trying to help Dettlaff and rehabilitate him so he can be amongst humans again, but he didn't isolate himself from his friends and keeps in contact them, sometimes even meeting up in person. Dettlaff is willing to accept this, realising how important his friends are to Regis.
> 
> With that little intro, hope you enjoy! :)

Regis cocked his head when he heard a screech and a chitter of a young katakan pup. He turned his head and saw the youngest pup of the litter hurrying inside. The creature’s eyes found him and its large ears perked up while it raised itself up on its haunches. The pup trotted towards him and grabbed his legging with a tiny clawed paw, its other paw miserably raised so he could see.  
  
The older vampire carefully took the pup’s wrist and turned its palm up, examining the surface. “Ah, you’ve been climbing trees with your siblings again I see,” Regis muttered, finding a wooden splinter caught in the tiny palm. The splinter was a couple of millimetres in diametre, quite a nasty one.  
  
The pup started whining and called out ‘Tssh, Tssh’. It was something new with the pups, they’d started making more sounds and were trying to emulate Regis’ and Dettlaff’s speech every now and then. They were still so young, not even a decade, and not even their parents had mastered many words yet. The pups would call out ‘Tssh’ when they wanted Regis’ attention, or ‘Tfff’ when trying to get Dettlaff’s. Not quite there yet, but to the two higher vampires their meaning was clear enough.  
  
“Let’s remove that nasty splinter, shall we? Let me just sit you up on the table so I can reach a little better.” Regis grabbed the little pup under its arms and sat the wiggling creature down before walking over to his desk, rummaging around until he’d found a pair of tweezers. He settled his glasses on his nose and held out his hand, palm up. “Come on, pup, give me your paw.”  
  
The pup did so, whining softly and Regis soothed the young creature with a quick rub behind its ears before he carefully grabbed the splinter with the tweezers and pulled it out slowly. “There there, all right now.” The barber surgeon gently rubbed the little paw, noticing the puncture closing up before his eyes.  
  
“Tssh!” The pup grabbed his arm and squeezed it, a high pitched purr escaping from its throat before the young katakan got down from the table and scampered back outside.  
  
Regis returned his glasses to his belt and put the tweezers back before returning to his little brewing station, stirring his new batch of mandrake hooch. He couldn’t help smiling. This was his home. He loved his pack, Dettlaff was getting better as time passed, became less leery, and Regis could visit his friends when he wanted to.  
  
Dettlaff hadn’t been fond of him reaching out to non-vampires and the younger vampire had clenched his jaw the first few times Regis had sent or received a letter from his friends, but his blood-brother was finally accepting that Geralt and Dandelion, members of his first pack basically, were very important to him and as such he would not interfere.  
  
Regis checked his new batch and adjusted the heat, then walked outside. Dettlaff was sitting on a bench, a book between his hands, enjoying the sun while reading. When Regis neared he lifted his head and closed the book. “And, is all going according to your plan?”  
  
Regis sat down next to him and leaned his head back. “Perfectly, I shall expect these next couple of batches to be of excellent quality. Just a few more days and then we may try some ourselves.”  
  
Dettlaff huffed. “I think I shall stick to wine, the one time I tried I felt… strange.” He nodded his head towards the playing katakan pups. “It came running in and out before I realised anything was wrong.” The young vampire’s lips thinned.  
  
Regis leaned against his side. “You know how youngsters are. Come to mom for one thing, dad for another, same with us. Paw’s hurting? Go to Tssh. Afraid of the big scary shadow? Go to Tfff.”  
  
“While mom and dad are hunting anyways.” Dettlaff cocked his head and his eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. I have been thinking, remembering lately…” He stroked the cover of his book and Regis noticed the odd choice of title, _Encyclopaedia Maxima Mundi,_ it came from his own collection then, not Dettlaff’s.  
  
“Do you remember the sad witcher, Vesemir?” Dettlaff continued.  
  
Regis nodded. “Of course, he helped us, and I’ve heard many a story from Geralt about him. Vesemir was basically his father, raised him from since he was a baby.”  
  
Dettlaff twisted to the side, his blue eyes boring into him. “Was?”  
  
Regis sighed and his shoulders hunched a bit while he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The older vampire started twisting his hands and he nodded. “He was killed… six years ago.”  
  
The younger vampire looked up, startled. “The men with… those salamander pins?”  
  
Regis smiled sadly. For Dettlaff time passed by without any real notice, it just was. Eight years, six years, they felt the same to him. If Regis hadn’t ventured out amongst mortals and made friends amongst them he would be exactly the same. He had been before, a long time ago. Now however he experienced time as the mortals did, but at the same time it was flowing away too fast. “No, that was several years before the Wild Hunt. The Salamandra quest was resolved and Vesemir returned to Kaer Morhen. It was an Aen Elle that slew him… Geralt told me when we were in Toussaint.”  
  
Dettlaff’s gaze turned inwards.  
  
“Back then, you had other things on your mind or I would have mentioned it to you. Ever since we’ve returned home I’ve felt… uncomfortable raising the subject. I know you do not wish to meddle in human affairs and so-”  
  
“Regis,” a hand came up to the back of his head and a thumb lightly stroked the base of his neck, “dear friend, you need not struggle trying to explain this matter to me. I understand.”  
  
Regis felt a tension he didn’t realise he’d had leave his shoulders. “But you wanted to say something, Dettlaff, what was it?”  
  
The hand left his neck. “It’s pointless now,” the young vampire shook his head, “but I shall tell you anyway because I know your curiosity needs satisfying. I was thinking… Vesemir is, was, a human and you so badly want to reintroduce me to humans and their society again.” Dettlaff held up his hand, stalling any protest. “I thought, if it’s going to be a human, why not him? He showed he was trustworthy. We promised we’d come visit up north to…”  
  
“Kaer Morhen,” Regis offered.  
  
Dettlaff nodded. “It’s pointless now, we shan’t ever be able to meet him again or repay him for what he did.”  
  
Regis tapped his finger against his own knee, thinking. “Indeed, we shall never be able to do that,” he sat up straighter, “but we could travel to the keep all the same, to his grave, and pay our respects. I must admit I’m happy with the fact that you were considering meeting up with him.”  
  
Dettlaff leaned forward and rested his forearms on his upper legs, copying Regis’ pose. “Closure… it’s what the mortals call it, right? Though I in turn must admit I would not mind visiting Kaer Morhen and see more of what was Vesemir’s world.”  
  
Regis worried his lip. “There’s one issue though if you’d like to visit the keep.”  
  
A raised eyebrow.  
  
“While I know Kaer Morhen is up north in Kaedwen, I have no idea actually where it is. The witchers keep the location of the keep a secret and while travelling with the hansa Geralt’s never brought us there. If we’re going we shall need his help.”  
  
Dettlaff’s clenched his jaw and breathed deeply before relaxing it again. “You know I appreciate that he let me have my peace after Syanna, and you and him being pack is fine with me, but the witcher will not want to see me. You were there, Regis.”  
  
Regis reached out and lightly squeezed Dettlaff’s shoulder. “He wasn’t happy, no, but he did it anyway, knowing the risks. He would help us if I asked him to.”  
  
Dettlaff was silent for a moment, but finally nodded. “All right, please ask.”  
  
~*~  
  
Regis wrote Geralt a letter detailing his request and went outside, calling for one of his ravens. The bird he usually sent to Corvo Bianco appeared and settled on his shoulder, its beak preening a patch of hair behind his ear. He smiled and gently scratched the bird’s head, fangs all out when the bird lowered its head and puffed its feathers, asking for more pets. The vampire gave a few good scratches before letting go and held out the letter. The bird extended its leg and Regis quickly tied the rolled up paper to it. “To Geralt, please.”  
  
Regis watched the bird fly off in an eastern direction. Now it was waiting for Geralt’s reply.  
  
~*~  
  
Life went on as usual and several weeks later the raven returned, carrying a new message. It landed on Regis’ outstretched arm and the vampire took the letter, pocketing the message, before lightly stroking its feathers. “Well done, my friend.” The raven crawled up his arm until it had reached its usual perch on his shoulder and lowered its head in demand.  
  
Regis huffed out a laugh, but scratched the black head a few times, walking towards the kitchen. He retrieved some seeds and put a bit of water in a bowl and moved over to put them down onto his desk. The vampire held out his arm and the raven crawled down towards the table top, eagerly starting on its well deserved meal.  
  
Regis took the message from his pocket and confirmed it was from Geralt. A positive reply… and a generous offer.  
  
He walked outside and found Dettlaff taking care of Horse. The animal really seemed to be enjoying her time here and liked the lesser vampires around her. Well, once Dettlaff had intervened to get the others to accept her. Siarra and the other alps, as well as the bruxae, had only needed a quick telling off, but the katakan parents and the garkain had needed special intervention. Now though they somehow, just… made it work. Horse was free to walk about as she liked and often she would run mad sprints and buck whenever the mood struck her, but she too considered this home now and always came back.  
  
Horse’s ears twitched and turned towards him, but she didn’t turn around, enjoying the brushing she received from the younger vampire.  
  
“I just received Geralt’s reply,” Regis said, holding up the message.  
  
Dettlaff’s eyebrow raised. “What did he write?”  
  
Regis smiled. “He’s willing to accompany us to Kaer Morhen. He’s additionally requested we travel together from Belhaven onwards; I can image it would otherwise be quite a lonely trip for him up to one of the northern cities. This may actually be for the best, no chance of him taking on supposedly minor contracts and getting distracted.”  
  
Dettlaff crossed his arms over his chest. “And you like the opportunity to spend more time with your friend.”  
  
Regis rubbed the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged. I think it would be good for you two to meet under more serene circumstances. Despite his parting words back at Tesham Mutna, he no longer holds you any ill will.”  
  
Horse bumped her nose into Dettlaff’s chest and the young vampire held her head and started stroking her nose.  
  
“Geralt said that if we agree, we should go to Belhaven and send a bird for him there. He can bring horses for us to travel on should we need them. No ‘puffing up into a wisp of smoke’, as my friend is so fond of saying, and flying around him, but travelling together in the flesh.”  
  
“We’ll bring Horse,” Dettlaff stroked Horse’s nose one last time and stepped closer to Regis, trying to read the letter over his shoulder. Regis handed it to him. “What’s this mention of a Draakul?”  
  
“Ah, that’s the horse Yennefer arranged for me previously. A beautiful black stallion with a gentle will, he didn’t mind me all that much.” Regis had first suspected the horse to have been subjected to one of her magic spells, but the sorceress had assured him there was no spell at work. “We should prepare, with Horse I expect the trip to be a little less than two weeks.”  
  
Dettlaff nodded. “I’ll inform Siarra and start packing. We can leave tomorrow.”  
  
Regis perked up and walked to Horse, stroking her long neck. He’d worried about Geralt’s possible answer and was glad his young friend was willing to accompany them to his old home. He wondered how Geralt and Dettlaff would react to each other. Hearing and reading about each other was different than actually meeting in the flesh and Regis seriously hoped his two dear friends would work things out and get along.  
  
He smiled at Horse, patting her neck one final time before going inside to pack as well. It was going to be a long trip…  
  
~*~  
  
All things went as planned. Horse carried their provisions and accepted both Dettlaff and Regis on her otherwise bare back. The vampires had never gotten to obtaining a saddle for her since they didn’t ride her back home and when they had ridden her it had also been bare backed and the horse had been gentle enough with them. Regis had feared for a moment that the gentle mare would not be able to handle the weight, but Horse had jerked her head up once before moving, following their commands.  
  
Once they’d entered the Theodula Pass Regis had called for one of his birds. One had appeared swiftly, ready to take a message to Geralt to let them know they would arrive at Belhaven in two days.  
  
~*~  
  
When Regis and Dettlaff arrived at Belhaven they dismounted from Horse, found the inn called The Bumbling Bee, where they'd agreed to meet, and went inside.  
  
Dettlaff squinted his eyes and hunched his shoulders and, noticing this, Regis quickly lay a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps it’s best if you wait outside for us? I’ll just be getting Geralt and some more provisions so that we may set off on our journey.”  
  
The younger vampire’s breath sped up and his hands clenched, but he nodded. “I’ll be with Horse. Don’t be too long.”  
  
Regis squeezed his shoulder. “Quick as I can.”  
  
When Dettlaff was through the door Regis looked around, searching for Geralt. He found the young witcher sitting at a table all the way in the back, playing dice poker with one of the patrons.  
  
“Ha, straight flush! Pay up dear dwarf!” Geralt gleefully said, picking up a large mug of ale and drinking it in one go, watching at the other player counted out his coins and left them on the table before walking away in a huff.  
  
The dwarf walked past Regis and went out the door, slamming it shut. The witcher’s eyes had followed him and when they spotted Regis a smile appeared on his friend's face.  
  
“Regis!” Geralt got up from the bench and walked up to him, arms held wide for a quick embrace.  
  
The vampire stepped into his embrace and patted his friend on the back. “Geralt! So good to see you again. Thank you for meeting us and for your kind offer. I’m so happy that Dettlaff’s willing to do this as well.”  
  
Geralt’s eyebrow lifted and his cat-like eyes looked around the inn. “Ah, not ready yet for this many mortals then?” He walked back to the table and started picking up his belongings before coming back to Regis.  
  
Regis nodded and walked towards the barkeeper’s counter. “Unfortunately. He left before he became overwhelmed. He is trying, Geralt, but it is… difficult for him. He’s got so many contradictory feelings about humans and non-humans. I know he feels an immense amount of guilt for what happened in Beauclair… when his mind was bestially enraged, but-”  
  
“Regis, I understand,” Geralt interrupted, “you wrote to me about it in one of your earlier letters, remember? It’s one of the reasons I agreed to this.”  
  
The vampire pinched the bridge of his nose before settling a hand around the strap of his shoulder bag.  
  
His friend patted him on his shoulder. “So, restock and set off?”  
  
They both got some extra provisions and went outside, meeting up with Dettlaff.  
  
The younger vampire was stroking Horse’s nose and focusing on her, but when they approached him he looked up. **_Worry.  
  
_** Geralt nodded at him. “Dettlaff.”  
  
“Geralt,” Dettlaff nodded back, “thank you for your offer… It is appreciated.”  
  
Geralt gestured towards Horse. “May I?”  
  
Dettlaff looked up in surprise, if not a bit suspicion.  
  
“Say hello to Horse, Regis told me much about her,” Geralt clarified.  
  
The young vampire stepped away from the mare. “Go ahead, she shouldn’t be afraid of you, she wasn’t of Vesemir.”  
  
A fleeting wistfulness passed over Geralt’s face as he approached the mare, but when he held his hand out for Horse to smell there was a slight smile on his lips.  
  
Horse smelled his hand and whickered before nibbling on his fingers.  
  
Geralt stroked her nose with his other hand. “Hi there, girl, got some new friends for you to meet.” The witcher beckoned Regis to follow him towards the stable where Roach and Draakul were waiting and together they quickly got the horses ready and led them outside.  
  
Roach turned a bit skittish when she saw Dettlaff, but Draakul calmly followed Regis until he was standing next to Horse. Both horses nickered softly.  
  
Geralt stroked Roach’ neck. “It’s all right, he shouldn’t bite, he’s like Regis. You like Regis don’t you? Come on up and say hello, Dettlaff.”  
  
Roach moved her head up and down and came closer to the other horses, nickering softly to the pair and throwing her left fore-hoof in the air.  
  
Dettlaff slowly moved closer and held his hand out to the two new horses. Draakul whuffled in his hand and lifted his head up while Roach hesitantly smelled his palm and quickly walked around until she was standing behind Geralt.  
  
“Well, introductions settled, shall we depart?” Regis asked, getting up on Draakul and waiting for his two companions to get up on their own horses before following the road north.  
  
~*~  
  
At the start of their journey Geralt and Dettlaff were both silent and tense, though Geralt tried to appear relaxed and open to the younger vampire.  
  
Roach was a bit skittish around Dettlaff; she’d had more experiences with vampire frights (Horse didn’t count, that mare had hardly any self preservation instinct) and while she accepted Regis after a fright she was wary of the new vampire. After all, Dettlaff didn’t try to cover his lack of scent with various herbs and spices. Draakul too seemed a bit wary, but his experience with vampires was less than the others and the gentle stallion was willing to give everyone a chance.  
  
“So, dear friend, you mentioned in your letter that Yennefer was visiting Ciri in Nilfgaard?” Regis asked.  
  
Geralt grunted. “Politics… travelled by portal.” The witcher shuddered.  
  
Regis too didn’t like portals. Like Geralt he knew about the instances in which a person only partially came back, some parts never found. Yes, he was a vampire and could suffer through quite a lot, but he didn’t want to think about what would happen if only part of his body came through a portal. Would he regenerate into two Regises? Or would he be stuck, incomplete, until the separated halves had found each other again. Dettlaff had grown a new hand, but somehow growing a hand to an otherwise complete body felt different than growing a new head on top of a body, or a body to a head.  
  
“Regis, come out of it.” Geralt waved a hand in front of his eyes, trying to get his attention.  
  
“I apologise, Geralt. Portals…” he explained.  
  
Geralt nodded, understanding. “Portals…”  
  
During their journey they tended to avoid the cities as much as possible for Dettlaff’s sake, but sometimes they were caught in extremely ill weather and Geralt looked so miserable, soaked and shivering atop Roach that Regis convinced Dettlaff they should aim for shelter, go to an inn for the night.  
  
To his surprise Dettlaff had acquiesced. The younger vampire had clenched his jaw the entire time he was amongst the patrons downstairs, but his friend started to breathe easier once they were shown to their room.  
  
Regis realised neither of his friends were ones for small talk. They tended to show what they wanted to convey through their actions and otherwise would be as succinct as possible when they spoke. This didn’t bother Regis though, he was used to it and could easily fill in the silences.  
  
He talked about topics that interested both of his friends and tried to get them started off into their own conversation. He’d managed once, and Dettlaff and Geralt had conversed politely for a while.  
  
Regis had gotten better at it, trying to get his friends caught up in a conversation with each other. It didn’t always work, but at least the tenseness between Dettlaff and Geralt started melting once they found they had some common interests.  
  
Their main common interest was Regis himself though and the older vampire rolled his eyes when his friends started talking about him and his habits.  
  
It actually was quite nice though, seeing his beloved friends starting to bond…  
  
~*~  
  
They had been travelling for several weeks and Regis was overjoyed to spend the time with his friends, and seeing Dettlaff and Geralt getting along with each other. When night came, the trio settled down for the night, allowing the horses some well needed rest. They were just one day away from their goal: Kaer Morhen.  
  
Geralt sat down next to Regis on a large flat boulder while Dettlaff sat opposite them on a stump, staring into their little campfire.  
  
Regis was telling Geralt about his various mandrake brewing experiments when he noticed his young friend’s eyes blinking more frequently. The man had tried to stay up with him and Dettlaff and had only meditated an odd hour here or there the previous day, come to think of it. “Geralt, if you do not mind, let me finish telling you about my experiments tomorrow. You seem tired, my friend. Shall we settle down for the night?”  
  
The horses started moving restlessly and Geralt blinked, looking around. The vampires too looked around, listening and smelling to figure out what the horses sensed.  
  
Geralt stood up and put on his heavy armour and swords, obviously not trusting the situation. “Wings…”  
  
The three looked up and noticed a dozen large figures flying high up in the sky, coming towards them. Regis recognised what they were. _Forktails._ The horses bolted and within moments the draconids were upon them. Geralt quenned up, waiting to see whether the forktails would pass and leave them be.  
  
They did not. When the first one swooped down with its talons extended, Regis and Dettlaff shifted into their vampiric forms. Geralt meanwhile took a swig of a golden looking potion just in time before his quen was damaged and he had to cast another.  
  
Dettlaff slashed at the forktail, but the beast quickly dodged and tried to bite the vampire. Geralt’s aard disrupted its flight and caused the draconid to fall to the ground. The witcher was just swift enough to prevent being hit by a cleaver-like tail and shot off another aard at one of the beasts in the sky.  
  
Regis took care of the fallen forktail and, when it was still dazed, cut its neck while Dettlaff went up to the other one. The beast flapped its massive wings and the younger vampire stumbled backwards, misting up in time to prevent being hit by a spike-covered tail and reappearing again behind the creature to slash its neck.  
  
The remaining forktails got more aggressive and started swooping down with their talons extended, only to break off just before they’d come into reach and lift up again, trying to swipe at them with their deadly tails.  
  
Two draconids stalked Regis when he was hit all of a sudden by a third one from behind, stalking him from the ground. The spike on the tail slashed his arm and Regis frowned. The cut closed before his eyes and he swiftly misted up into a blue-grey fog before he could get hit again.  
  
“Regis!” Geralt’s voice sounded behind him.  
  
He materialised behind the two draconids, slashing at their wings and misted up again when the beasts turned their heads to bite him. He then materialised in front of them and slashed through their soft bellies. “I’m all right, Geralt. Focus!”  
  
The remaining forktails swooped down in anger, but the trio was determined to bring them down one by one.  
  
A groan.  
  
“No!” Dettlaff’s voice. “Regis!”  
  
A crash.  
  
Regis finished the forktail in front of him and looked back, seeing Dettlaff take out the last beast.  
  
“Quick Regis!” Dettlaff pointed in the distance and misted up in a swirl of red, flying over.  
  
Regis traced what Dettlaff had been pointing at and his heart got caught in his throat. _Geralt!_ He misted up himself and hurried to his friend. **_Fear. Concern.  
  
_** Geralt was nearly hundred metres away from where they’d been fighting and his friend was lying on his side, arms haphazardly spread out next to him. Still.  
  
Both vampires materialised some metres away from him and Regis slowly walked closer. An icy cold spread through his body. “Dettlaff, what happened?”  
  
Dettlaff stayed where he was, unsure what to do. “One sneaked behind him and struck him with its tail. He was propelled high into the air before landing.”  
  
Regis looked closer and noticed Geralt’s eyes were open. He held his breath, listening, but the blood in his ears was making too much noise. He walked closer and noticed the smell of fear permeating the air. Only now Regis realised he and Dettlaff were still in their vampiric forms and he quickly changed to his human shape, closing the final distance. He knelt down next to his friend, afraid to reach out and cause his friend to panic, and waited for just a breath, hoping that Geralt recognised him. _He's alive.  
  
_ Dazed golden eyes blinked slowly and tried to focus on him.  
  
Regis felt Dettlaff’s presence come closer and was startled when all of a sudden Geralt dragged a trembling arm across the ground and signed an igni, firing off a weak and spluttering fireball before trying to roll away.  
  
“Aarrgh!!” The cry was quickly cut short as Geralt’s breath shuddered and he struggled to breathe. His body had started trembling but otherwise the witcher didn’t move, still lying on his side.  
  
Regis reached his hand out, slowly. “Hush, Geralt. You’re safe. It’s just me and Dettlaff.” Ever so slowly he moved until his hand was hovering over Geralt’s neck. “Lie still, I’ll be as careful as I can, but I need to determine the exact nature of your injuries.”  
  
Regis carefully touched Geralt’s neck and felt along the vertebrae with a feather light touch, feeling for any breaks. No breaks that he could detect, but the muscles at the base of his skull felt taut and the barber surgeon could already see and feel bruises forming in the area. It seemed like Geralt’s neck had suffered a severe strain, likely from a quick twist back and forth.  
  
Next he felt along Geralt’s skull, gently carding through the white hair in search of any fractures or bumps. The cranium was intact, but Regis could feel a large bump at the back of his head. If he'd landed any differently the impact with the ground would have crushed his skull, his friend had been incredibly lucky.  
  
Regis noticed that Geralt’s upper armour wasn’t damaged except for a few scratches. There was a good chance that the padding on the inside had cushioned his fall and had protected his spine, he would need to remove the armour to make sure. Looking down Regis hissed. His friend was only wearing leather trousers and there was something very obviously wrong with his right leg, his knee in particular.  
  
Geralt started swallowing compulsively a few times before his body gave up and he vomited. Another haunting cry, barely more than a near silent gasp, was wrenched from his friend’s throat when his injuries got jarred by the shocking motion. Afterwards Geralt lay in a daze, gasping weakly for breath.  
  
Dettlaff crouched down next to Regis, back in his human shape again. His clothes were a bit singed but the young vampire was fine. Witcher fire didn’t burn hot enough to do any serious damage, and certainly not the pathetic ball Geralt had launched.  
  
Regis moved a hand up to Geralt’s chest, intent on going through his potions pouch and search for some vials, but stopped when Geralt tensed up. He stayed still. “Geralt?”  
  
No reply. His friend seemed too dazed and too much in pain to be aware of much else. He needed medicine, one of his potions.  
  
He wouldn’t be able to swallow it though, lying down on his side like this, and what with his neck injury he couldn’t just raise Geralt’s head and risk worsening the injury. “Dettlaff, help me. We need to remove his weapons and armour and get him upright, but be careful!”  
  
Regis looked at Geralt’s weapons scabbards, one sword missing. They would need to be removed first before he could take off the armour. The scabbards seemed to be held by the top part of his armour, so Regis undid the clasps in the front with a light hand. “Carefully lift him, make sure to support his head and neck.”  
  
Dettlaff moved in and did as requested, calm and gentle in his movements and he smoothly manoeuvred the witcher to allow Regis to completely remove the weapons and the armour.  
  
Regis quickly examined Geralt’s torso, feeling along his spine and ribs. All intact, no breaks, though he would likely have some bruising on his side later.  
  
Then Dettlaff guided Geralt’s body so that he leaned upright against the vampire’s body, Geralt’s neck supported on his shoulder. The younger vampire furthermore kept a light hold of the witcher’s head to prevent the man from rolling it away.  
  
Regis meanwhile carefully moved Geralt’s leg to accommodate the change in position, but the hiccoughing breaths told him his friend was in immense pain.  
  
Once Geralt had calmed a bit Regis examined his eyes, the dark not bothering his vision in any manner. The pupils weren’t the same size, one was a pinprick while the other was blown wide, that was extremely bad. He tried to get his friend to track his finger, knowing the witcher usually could see nearly as well as he could, but Geralt’s gaze stayed unfocused and he started blinking repeatedly, eyes rolling up in his head. Geralt’s body slumped down, his eyelids shuttered closed, and Dettlaff rapidly moved an arm around his chest to keep him upright, making sure that his head stayed supported by the vampire's shoulder.  
  
His friend most definitely suffered from a concussion and would need lots of rest. Regis couldn’t do any binding for his neck, they would have to be careful in moving him, but he could do something about the knee. If he didn’t do it now then the leg that he already had so much trouble with would not heal correctly.  
  
Regis undid the strap holding the potions pouch tied to Geralt’s armour and searched it for some white gull, finding it after only a moment’s search.  
  
Dettlaff narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”  
  
“A potion to dull the pain. From the position of his leg I suspect his knee is injured, either broken or dislocated. It needs to be tended to and stabilised.” Regis shifted to Dettlaff’s side and uncorked the small flask. “Geralt? I’ve got something for your pain. Come on, dear friend, take a few sips.”  
  
Geralt accepted Regis putting the flask against his lips and swallowed a few sips of the white gull.  
  
“Let’s just give it some time to work,” he told both Dettlaff and Geralt. Regis stood up and hurried to the trees, searching some suitable branches to make a splint with. Once he found them he hurried back to his friends and rummaged around in his own pack for a strip of leather and some bandages. He folded the leather strip several times before handing it to Dettlaff. “Put this between his teeth before I start.”  
  
Dettlaff raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I don’t want him to bite through his tongue should he react badly.”  
  
Dettlaff nodded and took the leather from him. The young vampire tried to place the strip between Geralt’s teeth while Regis settled down next to the witcher’s leg, but Geralt flinched away and refused to open his mouth, the potion seemed to have dulled the pain a bit already. Dettlaff’s hand on his cheek prevent him from moving too much. “Open up witcher,” the vampire commanded.  
  
Geralt didn’t respond.  
  
Regis carefully cut through Geralt’s trouser leg and widened the hole. He noticed the knee was discoloured and thick and he cautiously palpated it. It looked deformed, crooked. “Hmm, dislocated.” There was likely a good amount of ligament tearing as well. The barber surgeon examined the leg in full detail, but didn’t detect any breaks. The skin of his leg below the knee however was getting pale. Regis grasped Geralt’s boot and carefully pulled it off. His hand immediately searched for a pulse in the ankle. No pulse. **_Concern._** “Dettlaff, I need you to assist me. I need to relocate Geralt’s knee.”  
  
Dettlaff looked at him, confused.  
  
“In essence, I’m going to pull and twist his leg until his knee settles back into position,” Regis explained.  
  
The younger vampire cocked his head. “What do you need me to do?”  
  
Regis lightly tapped Geralt’s cheek with the pads of two fingers. “Geralt! Come on dear friend, open your eyes.”  
  
Geralt’s eyes opened slowly and he seemed to be making a vast effort to keep them open. “Ggzzzz… nnunnnn,” his eyes shut, “wnn zhhhhh… faaaahii, llaff…” Blood trickled from his nose.  
  
Regis stilled. He could feel his own heart thumping loudly in his chest. Icy butterflies fluttered in his belly. **_Fear._** “Geralt? Can you understand me?”  
  
“Ggzzz… edd…”  
  
**_Panic._** “Geralt? Geralt! Do you have any white raffard?” Regis tried to calm down and searched through Geralt’s potions pouch, in search of a particular flask. He needed white raffard! It wasn’t in there, of all the times for his friend not to carry that particular decoction!  
  
Regis did find a vial with a familiar looking liquid in it though and removed the cork, smelling to confirm its identity. It was the raven concoction Regis had taught his friend to make. The icy butterflies had turned into wriggling maggots, crawling in his belly as he made Geralt drink a few sips of the potion.  
  
He returned to Geralt’s knee and tried to figure out how best to go about this. “Hold him Dettlaff. Put the leather strap in his mouth and make sure he can’t thrash about.”  
  
When Dettlaff had done so he nodded at him and Regis grabbed the leg with both hands, carefully pulling and twisting, feeling for the slight catch that would indicate the knee had popped back in place.  
  
Geralt started squirming.  
  
Dettlaff put the palm of his hand on the witcher’s forehead and lightly pressed down so the back of Geralt’s head was pressed snug against his shoulder. The vampire tightened his hold on the man’s torso, trapping his arms to his sides.  
  
Geralt cried out and started struggling in earnest.  
  
“Dettlaff please! Can you calm him?” Regis was afraid Geralt was going to injure himself further trying to get loose from the vampire’s hold.  
  
“My power may not be enough,” Dettlaff grunted, easily managing to keep a hold.  
  
“Can you try?” **_Fear.  
  
_** “For you… I will.” Dettlaff started working on imposing his will on Geralt, trying to calm him quickly.  
  
Geralt didn’t give in easily. He struggled, fighting the foreign entity in his mind. Pained grunts escaped his mouth while his chest heaved against Dettlaff’s arm.  
  
Regis squirmed, uncomfortable. His empathy was picking up on a lot of emotions from Geralt, and he knew he himself must be sending his own emotions loud and clear over the bond he shared with Dettlaff. **_Concern. Worry. Anguish.  
  
_** “Calm down witcher, you are making Regis uncomfortable,” Dettlaff murmured to Geralt.  
  
Regis looked up at his blood-brother. “Dettlaff!”  
  
He reached for Geralt’s hand, which had fallen limply next to his hip, and squeezed it. “Geralt, don’t fight it. Dettlaff’s trying to help.” He wasn’t reaching his friend. Regis decided to try and help Dettlaff in imposing his mind. His own mind powers weren’t as strong as Dettlaff’s, his main power was his empathy, but he could influence human minds to an extent.  
  
Regis stroked his thumb over the back of Geralt’s hand. He’d never tried to influence Geralt’s mind before, but he’d give it his best. The vampire let his mind wander, imagining blue-grey tendrils reaching towards his friend’s mind and gently caressing it. It worked and he could feel Geralt’s emotions even stronger through his connection. He couldn’t focus on that! Regis started sending thoughts of **_calm_** and **_safe_**.  
  
His friend’s struggling slowly stopped. Geralt was either accepting their minds’ will upon his, or he had become too exhausted to continue fighting. Regis sighed. Likely it was a combination of both.  
  
Regis quickly returned to his task of setting the knee and felt it pop back into place after several more pulls and twists.  
  
Geralt’s breathing had become superficial and sweat stood out on his pale brow. Regis removed the leather strip from between his teeth and touched two fingers to the pulse point on his wrist. His heart was beating very rapidly and was much weaker than usual. He returned his hands to feel Geralt’s calf and felt warmth come back to the flesh. Regis placed two fingers against the pulse point on his ankle and released a relieved sigh to feel the weak pulse beating there as well. “That’s good, Geralt. Very good. Now just let me bind that for you, your leg will need to remain immobilised until your knee has healed.”  
  
Regis started to work on splinting and immobilising his friend’s leg. By the time he finished Geralt had lost consciousness.  
  
Dettlaff released his mental hold, keeping the witcher upright. “What now? He can’t travel like this.”  
  
Regis pondered the issue. He whistled, calling the horses back and hoping that Draakul and Horse were with Roach and would follow her back to them. “Kaer Morhen is one day by horse Geralt said, nested on the slopes of the Blue Mountains where the Gwenllech comes down. Ard Carraigh is too far away, we should head for the keep. If we can get him there he can rest and heal. There’s woods around us and we can easily sacrifice one of our bed rolls. We can build a travois for him and have Roach pull it.”  
  
Regis took out his bed roll and placed it on the ground, helping Dettlaff to gently lower Geralt on top of it.  
  
“I’ll go find some suitable branches for the travois,” Dettlaff said once Geralt was lying down.  
  
“I’ll search for something to tie it together,” Regis informed him and started searching Geralt’s belongings for some rope. In the worst case scenario they could use Draakul’s reins to hold the travois together. Regis was in luck though, finding all sorts of string and rope in Geralt’s knapsack, as well as a full assortment of knick-knacks.  
  
Regis sat down next to Geralt. “You, my friend, seem to have a hoarding issue,” he softly murmured to the unconscious figure. He put two fingers on Geralt’s wrist and wiped away the trail of blood still clinging to his friend’s upper lip, waiting for Dettlaff to return.  
  
~*~  
  
The horses returned at the same time Dettlaff did. The animals appeared a bit skittish but Regis was glad to see they were unharmed. Roach walked up to Geralt and bent her head over the witcher’s body, whuffling a breath near his ear but not touching. Horse and Draakul watched her, but stayed at a distance, tails flicking.  
  
Dettlaff patted Horse’s neck as he passed her and moved a bit further, laying out the branches he’d collected. “How is he?”  
  
“No change since you left.” Regis shook his head and stroked the pale and clammy forehead. Well, at least his nose had stopped bleeding. “I found some material we can use to tie the travois.” he held out the bits of string and rope he’d found.  
  
The younger vampire took them from him and started on the travois while Regis got up and moved back towards their little camp, retrieving Geralt’s silver sword and hurriedly packing up their belongings.  
  
They had reached a conundrum. The primary reason they’d stalled for the night was because the horses were tired and needed rest. Kaer Morhen was a day’s travel by horse if they cantered, too long for the gentle creatures to go without rest. From his experiences travelling with a group before Regis knew horses didn’t need all too much sleep, and he’d seen Horse sleeping either standing up or lying down throughout the day, but usually she slept around two to three hours in total.  
  
Regis quickly discarded the idea of changing to his bestial shape. In addition to it requiring him to be fiercely enraged he wouldn’t be able to get a stable grip on Geralt to prevent any jostling, something Regis wanted to avoid at all cost what with his neck injury. So that would mean waiting, at maximum, approximately two to three hours before they could move further. Dejected, he returned back to Geralt’s side.  
  
Roach was still standing next to the witcher, but when she saw Regis return she came up to him and bit his sleeve, pulling him back to her master. She released him and stamped a hoof on the ground, a sign the vampire had come to associate with her wanting to go already.  
  
“No, dear girl,” Regis stroked her nose, “it’s still a long way to travel and we need you in top shape to pull the travois. Take your rest and then we’ll go.”  
  
~*~  
  
Three hours later they were back on the road. Geralt had been placed on top of the travois, which had then been attached to Roach’ saddle. They couldn’t move fast, but Geralt’s mare certainly seemed to be trying to walk as quickly as she could. At this pace Regis and Dettlaff actually preferred to walk alongside the horses and like this Regis could keep a close eye on his friend.  
  
Several hours later there was a groan.  
  
Regis saw Geralt’s eyes squinting at the darkened sky and he breathed shallowly. He put himself in Geralt’s line of sight. “Try to keep still Geralt, you’re badly injured.”  
  
Geralt frowned, but his eyes sought out Regis’. “’Gisssh?”  
  
He sighed, afraid to label the feeling he got as relief, his raven potion seemed to have started working, slowly but surely improving Geralt’s health. “Yes, it’s me. We’ve continued moving towards Kaer Morhen.”  
  
Geralt blinked and his breath hitched. “Hurzz… s-spinni’…”  
  
“Roach, stop.” Regis patted the mare’s haunch and moved up towards the potions pouch, hanging from her saddle bag. He got out the flask with the white gull and helped Geralt drink it. The inclined position of the travois made it easier as well and saved his friend from extra jostling.  
  
Once Geralt had drank a few mouthfuls he sighed and closed his eyes.  
  
~*~  
  
Geralt hadn’t woken up once during the day that followed and the pallor of his skin had shifted from sickly pale to ash grey. A cold sweat stood out on his brow and his eyes looked dark and sunken.  
  
Regis regularly halted their journey to get some water into his friend, as well as some raven and white gull. Every time he would check the pulse in Geralt’s ankle, knowing it would likely be all right, but wanting to reassure himself all the same.  
  
Even with the potions’ promising start, his friend’s condition was now deteriorating and the vampire felt the maggots wiggling in his belly multiply as the day passed. He was a barber surgeon and he was used to taking care of the ill and injured, but whenever it was one of his friends Regis had difficulties distancing himself from what he knew he had to do and his worry over them.  
  
When dusk arrived Regis called for a halt. Geralt needed something more substantial in him than water and potions. Solid food wasn’t an option with him nearly unresponsive, but they could make a broth with what they had brought along. Geralt even had a small copper pot in his saddlebags and it would serve well for this purpose.  
  
Dettlaff undid the travois from Roach’ saddle, carefully lay it down on the ground and guided the horses a bit away. He took care of the animals, unsaddled them and provided them food and water before leaving them be and returning to Regis.  
  
Geralt was shivering and when Regis lay a palm over his forehead he frowned at the cold skin. He went to their saddlebags and retrieved a blanket, adding it to the one already wrapped around the witcher.  
  
Dettlaff started making a fire and preparing the broth.  
  
They would allow the horses some rest before they continued onwards to Kaer Morhen. Tomorrow they would near the base of the Blue Mountains and should encounter the river that would lead up to the keep.  
  
When the broth was ready Dettlaff took it from the fire and allowed it to cool. Then Regis, with Dettlaff’s aid, smoothly worked together to prop Geralt up against the younger vampire’s chest, making sure his head was safely positioned and his friend was as comfortable as was possible. Regis knelt down next to Dettlaff and examined Geralt’s neck, moving some of the white hair to the side for a better view.  
  
Purple bruises had formed around the base of the neck and the vampire cringed. He shifted a bit lower and held his hand above Geralt’s knee, feeling for any unusual heat through the bandage. It wasn’t optimal, but Regis wasn’t willing to remove the splint while they were still travelling. He checked the pulse in the ankle, seeing the eyebrow Dettlaff raised at him for checking again.  
  
The older vampire copied his eyebrow and reached for the broth, pouring some over in a cup before holding it against Geralt’s lips and trying to feed his unconscious friend. Afterwards he and Dettlaff ate some nuts and fruit.  
  
Several hours later they were back on the road again.  
  
~*~  
  
The next day passed in a similar manner as before, with frequent stops to care for Geralt, who started to look like death had already come for him. Face grey and black circles under his eyes, his breathing so shallow Regis had to concentrate to detect his friend’s chest moving up and down.  
  
It was late in the night on that second day that they finally reached their destination. The castle loomed up all of a sudden, hidden away in the mountain folds.  
  
Geralt had told him once that the trail leading up to Kaer Morhen was easy to miss and Regis searched the area, looking for the way up.  
  
“Regis, I see skeletons,” Dettlaf spoke, confusedly looking at the bones scattered all over the ground.  
  
The older vampire pouted his lips and grasped the strap of his shoulder bag. “A macabre look, but to the witchers it’s a poignant reminder of what happened so many years ago. It all started with a book, Monstrum, written by an anonymous mage,” Regis shook his head, “the witchers that were at the keep were massacred, all except for one: Vesemir. Some others had been out on the path and when they returned they found their slain brethren. The knowledge on how to create new witchers was lost and the School of the Wolf dwindled down. Geralt, Lambert and Eskel are now the only ones left…”  
  
Dettlaff looked even more confused. “Are these the witchers?”  
  
Regis shook his head. “They’re the bones of those that raided the castle. Left here on purpose.”  
  
Roach suddenly lifted her head and perked her ears and she started walking faster, with renewed energy. The mare obviously recognised Kaer Morhen and was familiar with the path. Regis let her lead the way and discovered the trail upwards was indeed well hidden between the trees on the slope. At the end of it there was a drawbridge and a gate. The portcullis was down, but it was damaged, leaving ample room for even a horse to pass through.  
  
Regis took in the damage to the keep. Kaer Morhen had resisted many battles, but it was old and with the witchers dying out the work necessary to restore the castle to its former glory was but the whisper of a thought.  
  
They entered the courtyard and both vampires took in the sight. What looked to be the stables and a shed were on the left, while on the right there appeared to be a training ground, wooden dummies with painted targets standing along the side. Further away there were several flights of stairs leading up to the door of the large keep. The horses couldn’t go all the way up the stairs with the travois, not without jostling Geralt, so Regis and Dettlaff released the travois from the saddle and, together, grabbed a hold of it and carefully carried Geralt inside.  
  
Once they passed the main entrance Regis looked up in wonder. The great hall of the keep was very large and quite high. To think that in the last couple of years only a handful of witchers had stayed here made the place seem too large, so desolate. Regis remembered Geralt telling about it, how Eskel and Lambert refused to return here and how he himself had avoided the place as well. Bad memories. It was a ghost keep now…  
  
Regis noticed colourful murals as they walked, searching for a good spot to settle Geralt down. He frowned seeing an odd looking metal table at the far end of the hall, tucked in between some bookcases and crates, but the vampire’s gaze was quickly drawn to his right, where several beds were aligned next to a fireplace.  
  
They lowered the travois to the floor. Dettlaff lifted Geralt’s shoulders and supported his head and neck while Regis lifted his friend’s legs and, together, they gently lifted him up to one of the beds. When Geralt was settled, Regis nodded towards him. “I need your help for a little while longer, brother. I intend to examine Geralt’s condition in full now and want to re-do the splint, and make him drink more of the raven and the white gull.”  
  
“First let me start a fire, your witcher is shivering again.” Dettlaff put some logs in the hearth and used a piece of flint and his knife to get a fire started. Within a few minutes the fireplace was alive and burning, warming up the area considerably.  
  
Regis in the meantime had sat down on the bed and had placed a hand on his friend’s chest, feeling the chest rise and fall. “Geralt? Can you wake up?”  
  
No reaction. He hadn't really expected any.  
  
Regis examined Geralt’s head and neck as he had done many times by now. He lifted Geralt’s eyelids with a thumb and tried to examine his friend's eyes, but they had rolled back up into his head, revealing only small crescents of gold. The vampire checked Geralt’s side and lifted up his tunic to see bruises mottling the side he’d landed on. Light fingers hovered over the ribs, but his earlier examination had proven true, there were no breaks.  
  
Regis loosened the knots holding the splint together and pulled the sticks away. The ruined pant leg was gaping wide and they’d not bothered trying to put the boot back on his foot, so Regis had an excellent view of the status of Geralt’s leg. The knee showed dark bruises and the swelling had increased. Regis felt his calf and ankle first before moving on to the knee itself, lightly touching the joint and making sure the knee had indeed been correctly set.  
  
Geralt suddenly cried out and his body jerked, trying to lift from the bed.  
  
Regis cursed and lightly pressed Geralt down, stroking a hand across his friend’s forehead.  
  
Geralt tried to lift his head, but he was unsuccessful and another pained cry resounded through the large hall. “No… Alber’… n‘gain… hurzz,” he slurred in between hitching breaths, his fingers clenching spasmodically.  
  
Regis tried to calm his friend and started to lightly card his fingers through the hair near Geralt’s temple. “Shh, Geralt, who’s Albert? You needn’t worry about him, there’s only Dettlaff, you and I here… ”  
  
Geralt’s eyes fluttered rapidly behind closed lids and the witcher’s breathing sped up. At this pace he was going to hyperventilate himself unconscious.  
  
Regis cradled Geralt’s head between his palms and lowered his head, softly murmuring reassuring words at his friend. He fleetingly thought to try and force his own mind on Geralt in order to get him to calm down, but he would prefer if that was only a last resort. It wasn’t a nice feeling, no matter how gentle the person who was influencing him was trying to be.  
  
Dettlaff came up and quickly but smoothly helped Regis to lift the witcher so he could imbibe the potions before lowering him down again. Geralt quickly calmed and his breathing evened out.  
  
Regis released a shuddering breath. His heart felt like some greater being had reached in and crushed it. There was a reason doctors didn’t usually treat their family and friends.  
  
Dettlaff came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “Will you be all right for a moment? I’d like to go outside and tend to the horses, bring in our provisions.”  
  
The older vampire jerkily nodded. “He needs white raffard, I fear…” he stalled, he wouldn’t speak his fear out loud, “perhaps there’s a vial inside the keep. They were bound to have made some in preparation of the Wild Hunt. If there aren’t any I dread to think where we can find nekkers and if…” **_Concern. Anguish._**  
  
Dettlaff gently palmed the back of Regis’ neck and pressed his own forehead to Regis'. **_Calm. Love._** “I shall have a quick look around the keep, see if I can find any potions. You stay with Geralt.”  
  
~*~  
  
Dettlaff quickly took care of the horses and brought in their provisions. He then misted up into a red fog and swirled away, searching the keep. He returned only a few minutes later, materialising next to the bed.  
  
Geralt was still asleep and Regis had anxiously kept a hand on his friend's chest, not allowing his weight to settle, but feeling his chest move up and down and his heart beating weakly against his palm. **_Anguish._** Geralt was dying…  
  
“Regis, I found a room up on the first floor with a varied collection of flasks and vials." Dettlaff looked at his hand where it rested on Geralt’s chest. “There were many, though none were labelled. There were vials with a green potion, or purple, some jars with orange liquids and some ball shaped flasks with clear liquid in it. Then there were several flasks with a white liquid in them and one with pearl-white. Forgive me, brother, but I was unsure which to bring back with me.”  
  
Regis perked up. “The one with the pearl-white liquid, was it in a round flask with a long thin neck?”  
  
Dettlaff nodded.  
  
**_Hope._** The older vampire felt a few more heartbeats before taking his hand from Geralt’s chest. “Where?”  
  
Dettlaff pointed to one of the towers. “That one up to the first floor, then the room all the way at the back.”  
  
“Stay with Geralt.” Regis only fleetingly noticed Dettlaff dragging a stool closer to the bed before sitting down. He misted up into a blue-grey fog and swirled away.  
  
~*~  
  
Regis followed Dettlaff’s direction to reach the room with the potions. The stairs leading up to the first floor were damaged and parts of the wall had crumbled away, but the room Dettlaff spoke of was still intact. It was nearly empty though, a desolate reflection inside the ghost skeleton of a once great keep.  
  
Regis could see a chest and wardrobe in the room and materialised into his human form. He walked up to the chest. Dettlaff had left it open and indeed there were many vials and flasks containing a multitude of potions. The vampire could recognise the tawny owl and swallow potions, the white honey. There was one flask that drew his attention in particular, it had a rounded bottom and a long neck and contained a pearl-white liquid. He opened the vial and took a whiff. **_Hope._** It was white raffard’s decoction! He looked around for more and was disappointed to find that this was all there was.  
  
Regis hurried down to his friend and brother, cautiously descending the stairs since he was in a material shape. He wasn’t willing to risk his precious find.  
  
When Regis returned to his friend's side he noticed that all the blankets from the other beds had been piled on top of Geralt’s body and pulled high up to his shoulders. Dettlaff was sitting on a low stool next to the fire, keeping an eye on the witcher, with a scowl on his face.  
  
Regis came closer and put a hand on Dettlaff’s shoulder, cocking his head.  
  
“His teeth were shattering. His flesh felt cold,” Dettlaff explained, nodding at Geralt.  
  
Regis crouched down next to him and lightly touched his forehead. Cold and clammy. He took Geralt’s wrist and pressed two fingers against the pulse point. His heartbeat was thrumming too fast for a witcher. How long could his friend’s heart actually handle it?  
  
“Come on dear friend, I have something for you,” he spoke softly, letting go of his wrist. “Dettlaff, if you would be so kind please.”  
  
His brother got up from his stool and Regis settled himself on the edge of the bed near Geralt’s head. Together the two vampires arranged Geralt, taking tremendous care not to jostle his head and neck and guiding him smoothly until his upper body was leaning against Regis, his head resting on the vampire’s shoulder.  
  
Regis got Geralt to drink the entire contents of the flask. It took several minutes and while he was drinking the decoction black veins appeared on his friend’s flesh.  
  
Dettlaff’s eyes open wide. “Why did that happen? This is one of his potions, meant to help him you say, yet he looks even worse than just a moment ago. He looks like…” he trailed off and took a step backwards.  
  
Regis could hear what Dettlaff didn’t say out loud. _He looks like_ _you did._  
  
“The white raffard has immense healing abilities, at the cost of great toxicity,” he explained, “that’s causing the black veins. Unfortunately my young friend often shows up looking like this when he’s been out on a contract or has run into some trouble. He tends to forget how many and which potions he took, and to drink white honey afterwards.”  
  
“So he could drink white honey now and be rid of this toxicity?” Dettlaff's gaze drifted to the witcher’s pouch.  
  
“Unfortunately, that would nullify the white raffard and the decoction is currently restoring a majority of his vitality, much faster than any other potion or medicine. Geralt should start showing some remarkable improvements henceforth.” Regis held up the vial with the raven concoction. “Once his body has cleared some of the worst toxicity he can have more raven, hopefully after this it will be enough to aid Geralt’s healing further.”  
  
“Are you sure this will work?” Dettlaff reached out his hand towards the witcher and helped Regis settle him down on the bed.  
  
Regis’ lips thinned as he lifted the blankets back up over Geralt’s chest. **_Concern. Fear._** “It has to.”  
  
Dettlaff grabbed Regis’ elbow and pulled him up, guiding him to the next bed. The younger vampire lightly pressed his shoulders to get him to sit down on the mattress and then sat down next to him. **_Calm. Love._**  
  
Regis leaned against Dettlaff’s side and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder.  
  
The two vampires held a silent vigil.  
  
~*~  
  
Regis had tried to stay awake all night, but he woke up and found himself lying on the bed next to Geralt’s. He must have slipped into regeneration; he was nearly back to his previous strength and even in his current state he was well capable of defending himself, as his fight at Dun Tynne had proven years ago, yet he was still not fully recovered from his encounter with Vilgefortz.  
  
Dettlaff was still sitting on the bed, next to his head, his eyes on Geralt. “He stayed quiet all through the night. I listened for his heartbeat to make sure he still lived.”  
  
Regis moved his legs to the side and sat up. If he was honest with himself he felt a bit hollowed out from the emotional turmoil the previous day. He focused his ears on Geralt and tried to listen for his heartbeat now that the blood rushing in his own ears wasn’t deafening him. _There it was.  
  
_ Dettlaff stood up and moved over to their provisions, taking out two bread rolls and some cheese. “Eat, brother.” The younger vampire held out a roll and waited until Regis took it, breaking off a piece of the cheese.  
  
The two vampires quietly ate. When they were done Dettlaff stood up and took the bag carrying the horse oats. “I’ll go tend to Horse and the others and have a look around. If you need me Regis, use our connection.”  
  
Regis nodded and moved over to the stool right next to Geralt’s bed. His friend’s cheeks were flushed red but the rest of his skin was sickly pale. It was an improvement though compared to the ghoulish grey colour Geralt had before the white raffard. The black veins caused by the decoction's toxicity had lightened considerably.  
  
From cold shivers to hot flushes, Regis knew it was within limits of patients with concussions and he pulled two of the blankets covering Geralt down all the way to the foot end of the bed. The remaining blanket he folded back to just beneath his chest.  
  
Geralt’s breath deepened. A moment later his eyes fluttered open and a low squeak left the witcher’s throat.  
  
Light sensitivity. The white raffard would have done a great deal in healing the damage Geralt had taken and indeed it was a magical potion, but still it had limits to what it could do. His friend healed faster than an average humans, but even with his potions he only recovered about four times faster.  
  
Geralt strained his neck, trying to lift his head. He groaned, not succeeding.  
  
Regis lay a hand on his friend’s shoulder and lightly pressed down. He shifted from his stool to the bed and hunched over Geralt’s face, examining his pupils. Still not equal in size, but the difference wasn’t as glaring as before. “Geralt, how do you feel?” He took care to speak only barely above a whisper, imagining that noises weren’t anything his friend was fond of quite yet.  
  
It took a while for Geralt to respond. “Regissh? Li-like… gotthrow… ff-cliff,” his speech was slurred and slow, but it was remarkably improved and his friend recognised him.  
  
“Not wholly inaccurate, my friend,” Regis stroked his thumb up and down over his shoulder, “you did get flung very high before coming right back down hitting the ground, and quite some distance from where you’d started.”  
  
Geralt blinked. “Gissh? Need-ta pee… Bad…”  
  
Regis gently squeezed his arm him. “Let me set up something, you’re in no state to get up.”  
  
The vampire quickly searched around for something that could serve as a urinal and came back a moment later with a substitute. Even through the dazed look he noticed the tell tale signs of embarrassment on Geralt’s face, but Regis really didn’t understand it. Just because you were injured didn’t mean your body conveniently stopped its usual business. It wasn’t a big deal. He was a barber surgeon and currently his friend was his patient. The vampire helped him do his business and discarded the waste, cleaning his hands afterwards.  
  
Geralt’s eyes moved sluggishly, taking in the ceiling. “Why… Morh’n?”  
  
Regis grasped his friend’s wrist and felt his pulse, wanting to confirm what his ears were telling him. Still a bit too fast for a witcher, but slower than the day before. “We did travel here for a purpose. What do you remember?”  
  
Geralt frowned and was silent for a moment. “’llaff… fire?”  
  
Regis lifted an eyebrow. “You did blast an igni at him, but luckily us vampires can handle the fire of your particular sign, only stings a bit. Your blast was smaller than usual. He’s fine.”  
  
His friend’s breathing sped up and his limbs twitched. The moment Geralt jerked his right leg he sucked in a breath before releasing a pained grunt. “No!… col’!”  
  
Regis shook his head in confusion, wondering what Geralt was talking about. “I’m sorry Geralt, I don’t understand-”  
  
Geralt slapped a hand on the mattress and released an angry huff. Then he lifted the hand to his face and covered his eyes. He was quiet for a while, his hand trembling slightly. “Head?”  
  
“You’ve got quite a concussion, but don’t you worry, you are getting better. I figure by now you’ve also realised that trying to lift your head is still quite difficult if not impossible. From your symptoms I deduce a severe neck strain and-”  
  
Geralt’s hand moved up from his face and aimed for Regis’ mouth. “Shhh… t’much.”  
  
Regis smiled when the hand landed on his nose, but he quieted all the same.  
  
Apparently satisfied, Geralt let his hand slip down onto the bed.  
  
Regis put an arm behind Geralt’s back, taking great care to support his neck, and lifted him slightly so that his head was above his chest. Then he retrieved the raven concoction from his pocket and uncorked it with one hand. “Just a few sips of raven, my friend, then you can have some white gull for the pain and I’ll leave you to your rest.”  
  
Geralt drank, his face twisting at the taste.  
  
Regis guided him back down until he was lying flat on the bed again. The vampire placed a hand on the pale forehead. A bit warm now.  
  
He moved to the foot end of the bed and uncovered Geralt’s right leg, placing two fingers on the pulse point in his ankle and satisfied that all seemed well there. Regis’ hand hovered over the injured knee and felt the warmth radiating from the joint. He didn’t want to remove the splint just yet, any jostling to his knee would inhibit the healing, but perhaps later when Dettlaff had returned he would remove it and have a look.  
  
Cat-like eyes shuttered close. Geralt’s breathing evened out.  
  
Regis pulled the blanket back over his friend’s leg and tucked the edges of the material under the mattress. He stretched and decided it was safe enough to go outside and see if Dettlaff needed any help.  
  
When Regis got outside he misted up into a blue-grey fog and swirled down towards the stables. He materialised a bit away from the horses, out of their sight. The animals were huddled close together, chewing on some hay, and a feeding trough had been filled with some oats, another trough contained water. Regis’ black eyes searched around, spotting the water pump some metres away.  
  
The vampire walked up to the trio. “Hello there, I see Dettlaff has taken good care of you.”  
  
Roach’ ears flickered and she lifted her head, moving up to him. She lightly butted her head against his chest and reached for his wrist, trying to catch a hold of his sleeve.  
  
Regis rubbed her nose. “Geralt’s alive, we’re taking care of him,” he assured her. Draakul and Horse also came up to him and nodded their heads, whuffling softly. The vampire gave them quick pats along their necks.  
  
He looked to his left when he heard cracking sounds just outside the keep. He walked away from the horses and crossed the drawbridge. The path sloped downwards and Regis had a clear view of the valley, the river and the trees. It was beautiful.  
  
There was a rustling in the trees nearby and more cracking sounds. Regis walked towards it and saw Dettlaff in his vampiric form, slashing a branch as thick as his arm with his elongated claws. Three more branches of the same type were lying scattered over the floor.  
  
Regis thought back to the logs next to the hearth. “Dettlaff, what are you doing? There’s still plenty of firewood inside the keep.”  
  
Dettlaff shifted back to his human form and picked up the other branches. “They’re for a little side project to keep me busy while the witcher heals.”  
  
The older vampire’s mouth twisted upwards into a small smile. Indeed, Dettlaff liked working with his hands. Back home he also liked to whittle away at wood, creating little toys for the pups. His young friend had been the one to create his desk for him, as well as all their furniture.  
  
Dettlaff looked back at the keep. “The decoction’s working then?”  
  
Regis nodded. “Slow but steadily. Geralt would likely have perished without the white raffard," he swallowed heavily, not wanting to dwell on what had been but barely avoided, "but still it’s not an overnight cure. I expect it shall be near to two weeks before he’s capable of walking again,” he mulled it over, “I really need to think of something to keep him busy once his head is feeling better, lest he try to get up too soon.”  
  
Dettlaff lifted an eyebrow and a fond smile appeared on his face as he adjusted his hold on the branches. “Sounds… familiar.”  
  
Regis squinted his eyes at his blood-brother. “You know, you and Geralt are very much alike.”  
  
The younger vampire started walking back to the keep. “Hhnn,” he grunted.  
  
Regis pointed his finger at him, following after him. “ _That_ is an excellent example!”  
  
“Regis!” Dettlaff growled at him.  
  
The older vampire nodded. “Indeed, you two are, for example, very similar in your verbacious speech.”  
  
“Perhaps the witcher and I are compensating for your voluble level of interlocution,” Dettlaff countered.  
  
Regis snorted.  
  
When the two vampires entered the great hall, Regis hurriedly returned to Geralt and checked over his friend. He was still lying as he’d been when the vampire had gone outside and he was breathing quietly. Good, he needed all the rest he could get in order to heal.  
  
Dettlaff moved to the stool next to the extinguished fireplace and placed all but one of branches on the ground next to him. The young vampire took his blade from his belt and started stripping off the bark.  
  
Regis, trusting his brother to keep an eye on his friend, went to the other end of the keep, to the kitchen. He started rummaging around the cupboards, looking for pots and pans and something to clean them with. He would cook up some light stew, Geralt would need to eat soon. If the witcher hadn’t woken up by late afternoon he would try and rouse him himself.  
  
~*~  
  
That afternoon, Regis kept busy. First with cleaning the pots and pans in the kitchen and making the food in preparation of later, as well as preparing something more substantial for himself and Dettlaff. When he was done with that he told Dettlaff to keep an eye on Geralt while he searched the various rooms in Kaer Morhen.  
  
The murals on the ground floor were truly admirable and Regis had to pull himself back from the one of witcher George slaying the dragon. He would have time for a closer look later. He was on a mission.  
  
He misted up in a swirl of blue-grey and flew up the stairs of one of the towers, going in and out of each room. He found the library and noted down its location, he would like to examine the collection later. Regis flew down and towards another tower and noticed that there were stairs leading downwards here. Interesting.  
  
He went down and stumbled upon what looked to be a laboratory. Regis materialised into his human shape and slowly walked around the room.  
  
There was a giant stuffed moth hanging from the ceiling, looking up at what appeared to be the skeleton of a forktail that had been hung from the ceiling. There was a heady smell in the air and Regis tracked it down to a little section on the left where several mosses and grasses were struggling to survive. He wondered at their properties, he certainly hadn’t seen anything like it in all his existence.  
  
There were some metal constructions at the far end of the room that reminded Regis of Tesham Mutna. The hair on his arms stood up and his body shuddered. This must have been one of the rooms in which young boys were subjected to the trials and either ended up mutated, witchers, or died in agony. Regis’ gut wrenched and he swallowed a few times. How lucky his friend was to have survived that.  
  
He shook his head and moved to the right side of the room. A table held some special equipment of which Regis was unsure as to what it could actually be used for. It didn’t matter, he was only in search of some clear containers that could withstand heat. He intended to prepare more of the raven concoction and would need to be able to fully observe the change in colour as it reached its final stage in the preparation process.  
  
He would love to be able to make some additional white raffard, but Regis had no idea if there were any nekkers about and Geralt didn’t carry any hearts in his alchemy ingredients.  
  
The vampire walked up to a large cupboard next to the table and opened the doors. Inside it he found a collection of beakers and flasks, pipettes and stirrers as well as chemical ingredients. He took some suitable glass containers and carried them back upstairs.  
  
When he reached ground floor Regis made his way to the kitchen and placed the glass containers down on the counter. All of a sudden there was a shout and he froze. _Geralt!  
  
_ “No! Don’ wanna. Had ‘nough! Ves’mir? Ves’mir!”  
  
Dettlaff had his arm around Geralt’s chest, lightly pressing down in order to prevent the man from twisting off the bed and falling to the floor. “Calm down, witcher,” he growled softly. Dettlaff noticed Regis and the younger vampire looked at him with helpless eyes, uncertain how to proceed.  
  
Regis approached the pair. Geralt must have heard him, for he tilted his head to the side towards him, wincing, but didn’t give in despite the pain. “You said… done wi’me. No more… sperments. Don’ wanna Ves’mir, you promised.”  
  
Regis crouched next to the bed and put his hand on Geralt’s forehead. Too warm _._ He started soothingly stroking the white hair. “It’s all right Geralt. You’re safe.”  
  
His friend’s eyes drifted off to somewhere over Regis’ shoulder and his breath hiccoughed. “Promised… No more Sad Alber’. Won’ survive… this time…”  
  
Regis looked behind him and noticed part of the metal table peeking out from behind the bookshelves. A frown found its way to his face.  
  
Geralt let out a choking sob. “Straps won’ hol’ me down ‘nmore. Dinna lass-time. Go wrong! Please…”  
  
**_Sorrow._** Regis felt his heart break in two. Albert wasn’t a person. It was a torture device to his friend.  
  
Geralt slowly calmed down and Regis wondered if his friend had tired himself out when Dettlaff removed his arm from around the witcher’s chest. The younger vampire had a determined look on his face and a corner of his mouth was pulled down.  
  
_Ah._ Regis’ lips thinned.  
  
“Don’t give me that look, Regis. It was either this or risk him getting more agitated and hurting himself.” Dettlaff defended his actions, holding his hands out in front of him.  
  
Regis looked down at Geralt and saw dazed cat-eyes staring blankly ahead. He stood up and turned around, shoulders slumping for a moment before he shifted into his vampiric form and moved over to the metal table. To Sad Albert. Regis’ eyes roved over the table, taking in the sight of the metal – metal! - straps attached to the frame. **_Anger. Fury. Anguish._** He slashed the torture device until it broke down in pieces before him and started in on destroying the little bits in front of him even further when sensations from Dettlaff reached him over their bond.  
  
**_Calm… Safe…_**  
  
Regis stilled and turned around. Dettlaf was hunched over Geralt and was covering the witcher’s ears in a bid to block out the sounds. Regis shifted back to his human form and squeezed his eyes shut. What was he thinking making so much noise?! He clenched his hands into fists, feeling his nails biting into his palms. He breathed in… and out… Regis forced himself to calm. Again, breathe in… and out. When he felt somewhat more composed he opened his eyes and returned to his friends.  
  
Dettlaff looked confused. “I do not understand. His behaviour…”  
  
Regis grasped Dettlaff’s arm and squeezed lightly. “Related to his concussion. It’s not uncommon for a being in pain to reflect back to a similar event in the past. Geralt’s injuries, his inability to move or even lift his head, being back in this environment,” he sighed, “well…”  
  
Dettlaff took his hands from Geralt’s ears and stood up. “He hasn’t eaten today, he should.”  
  
Regis noticed Geralt’s gaze was still dazed. “Release his mind back to him.”  
  
“Why? It shall be easier this way.” The younger vampire started walking towards the kitchen.  
  
Regis ran after him and grabbed his arm. “Please Dettlaff.”  
  
Dettlaff cocked his head and his cold blue eyes seemed to stare through him, but finally he nodded and continued to the kitchen.  
  
Regis returned to Geralt. The witcher was lying quietly, slowly blinking, but the vacant look had left his eyes.  
  
He sat on the bed and softly touched Geralt’s cheek. “Are you back with us, my friend?”  
  
There was a flicker of _something_ in the cat-like eyes. “Uhuh.”  
  
“You need to eat, do you think you could handle a light stew?”  
  
Geralt’s eyebrows turned downwards.  
  
“Try a bit? You can’t just subsist on potions,” Regis wheedled.  
  
Geralt sighed. “Try…”  
  
Dettlaff came back from the kitchen carrying a bowl and spoon. “Good, witcher. Regis, get him ready.”  
  
Geralt blinked, looking at the younger vampire. “’Gissh? ‘laff… cook?”  
  
Regis smiled, it seemed his friend was truly back with them and aware of his surroundings. “Don’t worry, he only warmed up the stew I made. Though I can assure you Dettlaff’s an excellent cook.”  
  
“Feel strange, ‘Gissh.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. Now relax, I’m going to lift you. Let me do the work, my friend.”  
  
Once Regis had settled Geralt’s upper body against his own Dettlaff handed over the stew and returned to what had become his usual seat near the hearth. The young vampire started whittling away at a branch again, silently observing.  
  
Regis patiently helped Geralt eat some of the stew. He allowed his friend to try eating himself first, but his hand shook and his hand-eye coordination was off. Regis quickly grasped Geralt’s wrist before he would spill the stew onto his chest and removed the utensil from his grasp, taking over.  
  
Geralt slumped against him, energy gone, and allowed the vampire to feed him. After a few mouthfuls already though the witcher refused to open his mouth for another spoon. “Bitter… no more.”  
  
Regis put the stew aside and frowned, it was actually quite a sweet stew, with sweet potatoes and carrots in it. “Perhaps later then.” He gently placed Geralt down on the bed and lightly carded his fingers through the white hair. His friend drifted off to sleep within moments. Regis kept up the repetitive strokes.  
  
Dettlaff huffed and walked away. He came back a little while later, carrying two plates of the food Regis had prepared in one hand and a bottle of wine in another. “Come sit next to me, Regis.” The younger vampire sat down on the other bed and put the bottle on the floor, patting the mattress.  
  
Reluctantly Regis left Geralt’s side, but he joined Dettlaff and took a plate from him. “Geralt’s improving, slowly but surely. The white raffard has worked. I’m relieved, Dettlaff, for a moment there I feared…”  
  
Dettlaff’s knee brushed his own. “Your witcher’s alive, do not think beyond that, brother.”  
  
Regis nodded.  
  
They both ate their meal in silence, sipping from the wine bottle in turns. When the food was gone Dettlaff took their plates and moved back to the kitchen. When he came back he squeezed Regis’ shoulder before walking to his stool and whittling away at another stick.  
  
Regis focused on the sound of Geralt’s heartbeat and stayed silent, watching over his friend.  
  
~*~  
  
It was a few hours later when Geralt woke with a shouted groan. “Argh!” His fists were clenched tight and his back arched upwards, lifting slightly from the bed before he sagged limply to the mattress. The witcher tried to roll onto his right side, but Dettlaff was quick to reach him and pressed a hand down on the man's shoulder, another on his left hip.  
  
Regis was only a fraction of a moment later and he hunched over his friend. “Geralt! What’s wrong?”  
  
The witcher’s jaw was clenched and his fists were white-knuckled. “Leg… spazz…” Geralt’s breath stuttered, “hurzz…”  
  
Regis removed the blanket and hovered his fingers over the knee. The splint still looked intact and his friend said his leg had spasmed, but he would like to examine the knee again to make sure all was in place. His hand went to Geralt’s right ankle, feeling for the pulse. Still there…  
  
He retrieved the flask of white gull and together with Dettlaff helped Geralt drink some. Regis grasped one wrist and stroked the tight knuckled fist, feeling Geralt’s fingers unclench slowly. “There you go, let the white gull work and try to breathe deeply.”  
  
When Geralt had calmed down and the white gull had taken effect the vampire nodded towards Geralt’s leg. “I’m going to check your knee and undo the bindings. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can but please try not to move.” Regis looked at Dettlaff.  
  
Dettlaff nodded at his silent request, shifting his position so that he could hold Geralt’s chest and left leg should he need to.  
  
Geralt managed to stay still while Regis removed the splint and bindings and the barber surgeon carefully palpated the knee. The joint had turned quite colourful and the bruises had extended to a large portion of his leg, but everything seemed to be healing.  
  
“Unfortunately, dear friend, you’ll be off your feet for a while yet, but your body is already showing marked improvements. All that’s left to do now for you is rest and let your body heal. We will take care of you,” Regis spoke softly while re-wrapping the bandages and the splint, fully immobilising the leg again.  
  
“Hnn…” Geralt hummed, his face paler than before and with small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. He grabbed Dettlaff’s wrist where it hovered over his chest.  
  
Dettlaff shifted position and tapped Geralt’s hand with a finger. “If you let go, I shall stand away,” he coaxed.  
  
Geralt didn’t release his hold and Dettlaff didn’t move.  
  
Regis, finished with the leg, put the blanket back in place and sat on Geralt’s other side, placing himself in line of sight of those tired cat-like eyes. “Geralt?”  
  
His friend blinked up at him and he licked his lips. “Hnn?”  
  
The vampire lightly touched his cheek. “Do you think you can try to eat a bit more?”  
  
Geralt huffed. “Bitter… some’n-else?”  
  
Regis smiled wryly. “Unfortunately I fear your perception of taste is being affected due to your concussion.”  
  
The witcher closed his eyes. “Gisssh!” he hissed.  
  
Regis moved his hand down and squeezed his friend’s wrist. “Geralt, it was a sweet stew,” he tried to explain in simpler terms.  
  
“Cookin’… sucks…” the witcher grumbled, annoyed.  
  
Dettlaff nodded at Geralt. “Do you want me to-?” he asked Regis, raising a querying eyebrow at the older vampire.  
  
Geralt’s eyes sought the dark haired vampire and squeezed to small slits. “Do what? You… cook?”  
  
Regis couldn’t keep a soft laugh from escaping his mouth.  
  
Dettlaff blinked, once, frowning in surprise. “What… would you like?” The young vampire asked, uncertain.  
  
Geralt was quiet for a while, thinking. “Oatmeal an’ honey,” he eventually decided.  
  
Regis perked up. “Well, we do have honey and oats… we could roll the kernels and use it for oatmeal?”  
  
“The oats are for the horses,” Dettlaff countered, looking puzzled. It was obvious his young friend didn’t understand why a human would want to eat horse food.  
  
“They won’t mind, I’ve seen the shed with all the bales of hay, and besides, several bowls of oatmeal won’t really put that much of a dent in all the provisions we’ve packed.” Regis assured.  
  
“Is it like making semolina pudding?” Dettlaff squinted his eyes.  
  
A fanged smile appeared on Regis’ face. “Indeed it is! I know this recipe-”  
  
“No, Regissh! No… cook… ‘llaff make!” Geralt protested, squeezing Dettlaff’s wrist and using his other hand to weakly slap Regis’ arm.  
  
Regis smiled fondly at his friend and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “All right, my friend. I won’t cook, Dettlaff will make it for you.”  
  
Geralt closed his eyes. “Hope… bet’r cook…” After a few moments the breaths quieted and became more shallow. Geralt had fallen asleep again.  
  
“Well, I suppose I shall make some of this oatmeal?” Dettlaff gently removed the grip Geralt still had on his wrist and put the man’s arm down on the bed.  
  
“I fear it’s going to end in him dubbing us both bad cooks. It may take several days before his sense of taste is restored back to normal,” Regis huffed, “and thank you, my friend, for your reaction, accomodating the ramblings of an ill human.”  
  
Dettlaff smiled. “I find I do not mind. He reminds me of you, actually, how you were before. It makes me feel… different… about him.”  
  
~*~  
  
After all of Dettlaff’s efforts to make the oatmeal Geralt had grumbled at both vampires and basically told them to go and learn how to cook, mumbling something about ‘poor Regis’ and ‘no wonder he was so thin’ while he drifted off to sleep again.  
  
Neither he nor Dettlaff took his grumbles to heart; Regis had explained to Dettlaff about the side effects of a severe neck strain and a concussion. The two injuries combined made for quite a grouchy witcher the one time, and a depressed one the next before his mood shifted again. Regis couldn’t help feeling a comfortable warmth swirling in his chest though when Geralt became openly affectionate towards him in one of his mood shifts. Regis knew it was the concussion; his friend’s emotional barriers had been completely ripped away, clearly showing what he felt.  
  
The emotions coming from his friend were dizzying Regis, but nevertheless he was determined to stay calm and patient from now on. No more destructive tantrums.  
  
Dettlaff too showed his remarkable patience and Regis caught him several times adjusting Geralt’s blankets when the witcher’s teeth were chattering, or his cheeks flushed. The young vampire hovered near, whittling away at his sticks, but every so often his eyes would cloud and a distressed grimace appeared on his face. When he snapped back out of it he made sure Regis was near before fleeing outside, spending time with the horses and returning when he had calmed down.  
  
~*~  
  
During the next four days Geralt slept a lot, but whenever he was awake he seemed to be increasingly more lucid and his speech slowly cleared up from slurring to slow monosyllabic sentences. His eyes were less dazed, the pupils were back to normal, and Geralt seemed to have less trouble with his vision. The young witcher was also capable of lifting his head on his own, though he did grimace when he tried. Regis had undone the splint a few more times to check the progress on the healing and was glad to see the swelling had gone down some.  
  
~*~  
  
The fifth day Geralt was awake for longer and he lifted his upper body, resting his weight on his elbows and taking care not to jostle his leg. There was a look of triumph in his eyes, but he was panting in exhaustion a moment later.  
  
Dettlaff, being closest to him, hurriedly walked up to the witcher and, pressing one hand against his chest and supporting his back with the other, nudged Geralt to lie down. “Foolish witcher,” the young vampire muttered, “you should be resting and healing. We will tell you when you can try to get up again.”  
  
Cat-like eyes squinted at Dettlaff. “Need to get up. Try. Feel better. Not just rest.”  
  
Dettlaff lifted an eyebrow and looked at Regis. “I swear it, he is just like you. No patience the both of you.” **_Affection.  
  
_** Regis rubbed the back of his neck. “Ahem, yes, well…”  
  
“Bored, Regis,” Geralt murmured, “wanna get up.”  
  
Regis sat down on the bed next to his friend and stroked his arm. “Just a few more days, my friend. Two more and then let’s see what we can do to get you up and about. If the weather permits we shall figure out how best to get you outside, deal?”  
  
Geralt’s brow furrowed and his gaze turned to Dettlaff.  
  
The younger vampire held up his hands and he glared at the witcher. “You need not even try asking me. Regis is the doctor. Two more days of healing before you’re allowed to get up again, you heard.”  
  
The witcher huffed and looked at the ceiling, ignoring the vampires.  
  
“Geralt…” Regis pleaded, “please don’t be mad. You were very ill and are still recovering. If it was just your leg I would gladly help you outside today, but your concussion and neck strain are no mere trifles. Your brain can only recover if you rest.”  
  
Geralt blinked and his eyes met Regis’. There was a whole mixture of emotions there and Regis picked up on some of it. _Frustration, sadness, regret…_  
  
The vampire smiled wryly at his friend and squeezed his arm. “I know. Two more days, that’s all, I promise…”  
  
Geralt’s hand met his wrist and squeezed lightly. All forgiven.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days later Geralt awoke with the dawn and he eagerly looked around until his gaze spotted the two vampires. A rare grin appeared on his face when he saw what Dettlaff was carrying.  
  
It turned out that Dettlaff’s little project had been to make some shoulder crutches for Geralt so the witcher could be up and about without putting any weight on his right leg. Regis was impressed by Dettlaff’s work; when they’d allowed Geralt to try them out the crutches came up to exactly the right height and the younger vampire had even thought to add some cloth for padding. The handgrip too was in the right place for Geralt and Regis found a sappy smile on his own face. **_Love.  
  
_** Geralt tried several hobbling steps before nodding appreciatively. “Thank you, Dettlaff.”  
  
Regis and Dettlaff walked next to Geralt, moving towards the main door. He was hobbling at a slow pace, but with it he managed to reach the door all on his own and get outside for the first time in a week.  
  
The witcher closed his eyes and breathed in deeply before opening his eyes again and looking towards the stables. “Wanna say hi,” he said, nodding his head at the horses.  
  
Regis looked at the many stairs leading down to the courtyard and the stable even further away still. It was too long of a distance and would be much too tiring for Geralt, who’d only gotten out of bed today for the first time.  
  
“Whistle,” Dettlaff told Geralt, “they’ll come to us.”  
  
Geralt whistled, leaning heavily on his crutches. A smile appeared on his face when Roach came trotting up the stairs, all the way to the front entrance. Draakul and Horse followed her, a bit wary of the stone steps.  
  
Roach whinnied and Geralt reached out a hand towards her, letting the mare come to him and stroking her nose when she was in reach. “Hi there, girl… missed you.”  
  
Draakul lifted his front leg and stamped the floor while Horse whuffled and walked up to Regis, butting her head against his chest.  
  
Geralt sighed, still stroking Roach’ nose. “Know I can’t make it down, but you two don’t have to wait for me. You came here for Vesemir, his grave isn’t difficult to find. Starting from the south-east tower, if you follow the slope south you’ll reach a plateau and can’t walk further. You’ll find his grave there.” The witcher swallowed and his gaze turned to the right of the courtyard, though it seemed his mind was far away.  
  
Dettlaff came up to Geralt and broke his line of sight. Very slowly the younger vampire reached out towards the hand Geralt still had on the hand grip and squeezed his wrist, trying to catch his eyes. “Vesemir is not going anywhere.”  
  
Geralt froze, hand stilling on Roach’ snout.  
  
“We came up here to pay our respects to him, but it can wait for a while longer so you can accompany us. Did you know, Geralt, that I owe a great debt to him?”  
  
Geralt frowned, thinking. “Regis mentioned something like that in his letter, but he never told me why. I didn’t even know you three had actually met.” He glared at Regis.  
  
Regis looked at Horse’s head and stroked the mare’s neck. He felt a bit guilty for never mentioning that he had met Vesemir. It was a time he preferred not to remember, though the old witcher had been one of the good things during that whole period. Vesemir and Dettlaff. A head butted his chest, demanding pets. He smiled and obliged the animal. Horse too, of course.  
  
Dettlaff growled. “It is a… distressing memory.”  
  
“We can tell you about it though, once we’re back inside?” Regis offered, uncertain.  
  
The younger vampire let go of Geralt’s wrist and moved over to Regis, lightly cupping the back of his head in his palm. “Are you certain? He-”  
  
Regis interrupted his brother, grasping his wrist. “Perhaps it’s good to tell this story. Closure, right?”  
  
A wistful smile appeared on Dettlaff’s face and he turned back to Geralt. “I have a debt-”  
  
“We,” Regis interjected.  
  
“-to Vesemir, one I intended to pay once Regis had fully regenerated.”  
  
Geralt lifted an eyebrow and tilted his chin up, confused.  
  
“If we’d known about the Wild Hunt-” Regis started.  
  
“No, Regis, you were still too weak from your regeneration.” Dettlaff shook his head. “Vesemir helped us, and when I learned he was gone I felt bereft of the opportunity to repay him.”  
  
Geralt sighed wistfully. “I know the feeling.”  
  
Dettlaff carefully patted his shoulder. “Let’s go inside, you’ve done enough walking for now. I swear you are just like Regis.”  
  
Geralt gave a final rub to Roach’ nose before turning around on his crutches and moving back inside, the two vampires hovering by his side. “Why do you keep saying that actually?”  
  
The younger vampire smirked at Regis and started telling some stories of the earlier years in Regis’ regeneration…  
  
~*~  
  
Regis and Dettlaff finally told Geralt the story of how two vampires had adopted a horse and how Vesemir had helped them and invited them up north. They skimmed over certain parts that were just too painful, but otherwise they told Geralt nearly everything.  
  
Once the witcher started feeling better Dettlaff took to exploring their surroundings. One day he came back to the keep, holding a stick with several fish impaled on it. The vampire told them about the lake he’d found up north and the equipment he’d found in the lakeside hut, exclaiming his surprise at seeing bombs amongst the fishing gear.  
  
Regis tended to stay closer by, but he would explore different parts of the keep whenever Geralt rested, taking time to admire the paintings in full and going up to the library, searching for interesting tomes. He offered one to Geralt once to alleviate his boredom and the witcher had started reading in his chosen selection, yet a headache had quickly set in and forced him to put the book down. So apparently no reading yet. The vampire had sat down next to Geralt and had started softly reading out loud to the witcher.  
  
Another week passed by and Geralt steadily improved. Regis was satisfied with the speed with which his young friend was healing. His head and neck were much improved, though Geralt still complained of a headache and dizziness sometimes. The splint had been removed from his leg, but Regis told him not to put too much weight on it and to keep using the crutches for at least another week.  
  
At the end of their second week in Kaer Morhen Geralt hobbled up to the kitchen where the vampires were preparing dinner.  
  
Regis and Dettlaff heard him coming, but waited until he was closer before looking up.  
  
“Dettlaff? Regis? I can handle stairs now and my leg is much improved,” Geralt started a bit uncertain, “I’m sure I could take you down to Vesemir's grave?”  
  
Regis’ eyes roved over Geralt’s body, thinking back to the past days. “Are you sure, Geralt? We can easily wait a few more days.”  
  
Geralt nodded. “I’m sure. I, uh, have been thinking much lately. Like to go there now, see it for myself.”  
  
The vampires nodded and slowly the trio made their way south from the south-east tower. Regis hovered by Geralt’s side the entire way down, there to catch or support him should the slope prove too difficult still.  
  
When they arrived at a little clearing Regis and Dettlaff noticed Vesemir’s tomb. It looked so… small. Regis knew it was because it only contained the urn with Vesemir’s ashes. Two swords stood upright against the headstone and there was a small inscription on the stone.  
  
The vampires approached silently, but Regis could feel the jumble of emotions Dettlaff experienced loud and clear. **_Uncertainty. Sorrow. Gratefulness. Relief._** Because Vesemir was a human and had helped them simply because it had been the decent thing to do. Because of a chance ripped away. Because he’d saved Regis’ life. Because they’d managed to keep their promise and journeyed to Kaer Morhen after all these years.  
  
Dettlaff cocked his head and turned around after some moments, walking a little bit further, closer to the tree line.  
  
“We’ve finally come for a visit, Vesemir. Thank you, for everything.” Regis nodded his head at the tomb. In his mind he finished telling the witcher: _“Don’t worry about your boy, I’m better now. I’ll help him whenever he needs it.”_ He turned around and joined Dettlaff, standing close to the younger vampire but keeping his gaze on Geralt.  
  
Geralt seemed frozen to the ground. “I haven’t visited this place since the funeral,” he spoke to the vampires, though his eyes were glued to Vesemir’s tomb, “couldn’t stay. First, because of the Wild Hunt on Ciri’s trail. Then later because it’s just a heap of stone and ashes, right? Vesemir is gone…” he hobbled up to the tomb and shifted on his crutches, “but seeing it again, being back at Kaer Morhen after all this time…”  
  
Geralt trailed off and shifted a bit so he could free a hand from the crutches. He placed his fingers on the tomb, trailing the inscription. Then the witcher gripped his crutches with both hands and turned around, hobbling up towards Regis and Dettlaff. “You know another custom for commemorating our fallen loved ones and companions?” he asked the pair.  
  
Regis squeezed his arm. “I do, but it’ll have to wait until you suffer no other ill effects from your concussion. After all, I’ve brought an excellent batch with me.”  
  
Dettlaff frowned, not understanding yet.  
  
Geralt huffed.  
  
Regis smiled fondly at his two dear friends. “How about we go and visit our dear equine friends before returning inside?”  
  
As Geralt started hobbling up the path Regis came closer and put his arm around his friend’s waist, making it easier for him to hobble up the steeper parts of the trail. Dettlaff hovered on the witcher’s other side.  
  
Regis smiled, revealing his fangs. Two people he held very dear were getting along. Even more, from what he sensed from Dettlaff and the behaviour of the other vampire in general it seemed that Geralt had been adopted into their pack.  
  
Regis’ grin turned even wider. **_Happiness. Love.  
  
_** Dettlaff looked up at him, a bit confused at the sudden emotion, but he smiled slightly and transmitted a clear **_Love_** back at him.  
  
Regis was sure Dettlaff would allow Geralt to visit their home in Nazair now. Perhaps he would even allow for Dandelion? Well, not their home exactly, unless… the more volatile lesser vampires were away? After all, their pack had accepted Horse, perhaps with some intervention they could be convinced to accept visits from a witcher and a bard?  
  
A comfortable warm feeling settled in his chest and Regis started imagining future visits…  
  
**The end**


End file.
